


now we are all the lesser

by i_am_therefore_i_fight



Series: danger days [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mako wants to help, Platonic Cuddling, Raleigh is soft and misses his brother, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 13:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_therefore_i_fight/pseuds/i_am_therefore_i_fight
Summary: "Don't chase the rabbit," she says. "It's just a memory."On a night when Yancy's ghost lays heavy over Raleigh, Mako tries to take some of the weight.





	now we are all the lesser

* * *

 Any man's death diminishes me, 

because I am involved in mankind.

_~ John Donne, "Meditation XVII"_

* * *

 

Mako wakes to a sound, soft as a breath. She can’t place it until it comes again - it’s Raleigh in the bottom bunk, whispering his brother’s name.

She climbs down the ladder noiselessly and stands beside his bed, squinting at him in the dark. After a moment she realizes he’s still asleep, breath coming quiet but harsh, left arm curled against his chest while the right is splayed out to his side, clutching at the sheets as if searching for something.

“Yancy,” he says again, soft, distraught.

Mako reaches out and presses a hand down on his left shoulder, wary of his aching, twisted flesh but firm enough to wake him. “Raleigh.”

He tosses his head once, twice, and then she says his name again and he opens his eyes, staring up at her uncomprehendingly in the dark.

“Don’t chase the rabbit,” she says. “It’s just a memory.”

His lips part silently and he seems suspended for a moment, caught between past and present; then he lets out a harsh breath and his face crumples.

“I miss him so much,” he croaks. Reaching up with the right arm that had been searching for Yancy, he captures Mako’s hand against his shoulder and squeezes his eyes closed as tears begin to roll down his face and onto the sheets.

Mako sits gingerly at the edge of the bed. “I know.”

He presses his face into the side of her thigh and cries for about forty-five seconds. Then he lets out a long, shuddering sigh and quiets.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he says, muffled into her sleep pants. “You should go back to sleep, we’ve got combatives in the morning.” His words are belied by his hand still clutching hers.

She shakes her head even though he’s not looking at her. “No. This isn’t your pain to bear alone. It’s _our_ pain. I’ll stay.”

He turns his head a little to look up at her, and although she can’t make out the details of his face in the dark, she imagines the open, worshipful expression that he often wears whenever she verbally affirms their commitment to each other.

After a moment, he asks, “Do you want to lie down?”

She considers. It probably wouldn’t have been considered appropriate back home, and though she doesn’t really have trouble engaging with other people, physical affection has mostly been something she could take or leave without any real investment; but the place she came from is gone - Raleigh is her family now, and she knows how he craves contact, especially when caught up in the agony of separation from his brother.

Besides - if she’s going to stay while the ghost of Yancy passes over him, she may as well try and get some sleep. They have combatives in the morning.

She climbs into the bed and curls up against his side, sliding her left hand from his shoulder to his chest and tucking her right under her own head. His hand presses down on hers with a desperate pressure, as though asking her to fill the emptiness behind his ribs. And though the neural handshake isn’t active and she can’t _actually_ see inside his head, she knows him, and she thinks that somehow it _does_ help, the weight of her at his side, her fingers splayed over his breastbone, reminding him that she’s there.

“Thank you,” he says softly into the dark. His thumb strokes reverently over her wrist.

She shifts, settles. “You don’t have to thank me.” After another moment, she adds, “You miss him. I miss my family, too. What we have now is each other.”

“Yeah.” He squeezes her hand. “I’m lucky you found me.”

_This is worth fighting for,_ he had told her, when it looked like she would never be a pilot, like they would never be allowed to Drift together. When they were just a has-been and a rookie, with two many scars between them to count on their war-torn hands.

“So am I,” she says.


End file.
